


Eeeny Meany Miny Mo

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/F, Femslash, First Time, Kisses, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choosing can be hard sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eeeny Meany Miny Mo

“And I am to choose just one of these?”

Laura’s hand slides down Teyla’s bare spine as Teyla idly turns the page of the catalogue spread out on the bedcover beneath them. “God, no! You can have as many of them as you like - or all of them, if you can afford it.”

The light touch is soothing and knowing, sensual and tactile, barely interrupted by the back strap of Teyla’s breast-bindings, sliding down to the inside curve of her buttocks as Laura laughs. “I’m sure Colonel Sheppard could afford it if you mentioned it to him. He’s been earning hazard pay for years, and it’s not like he has anything to spend it on.”

Teyla lifts her eyes from the lace-clad women among the glossy pages and meets the gaze of her lover. “And why would the Colonel purchase these items for me when he is unlikely to gain the pleasure of seeing me in them?”

“Well, it would mean he thought he had a _hope_ of seeing them on you,” says Laura, both innocent and mischievous. “And as we say on Earth, it’s the thought that counts. Either that, or the greatest of treasures is hope. Take your pick.” Her fingers linger at the back of Teyla’s thighs, drawing Teyla’s thoughts steadily away from her team-mate and the catalogue on the bed.

“You enjoy touching me there,” Teyla says, changing the topic as the touch grows surer, more sensuous, never actually sliding beneath the edges of her undergarments but teasing the edges, slicking her desire.

“You’re all muscle.” Laura says, ignoring the lean lines of her own sleek figure. “It makes the softer parts of you interesting.”

They are sitting on Teyla’s bed, in close space of each other. Laura’s breasts are loose within the white sleeveless top she wears, and Teyla balances herself on one hand to reach out so she can cup the visible curve of body. Thin material pulls taut against nipples the colour of the clay riverbank - a shade of rose more pink than brown, but distinct against the cream-gold skin and Laura takes a deep breath, more like a sigh, and leans in to meet her mouth.

Rodney complains of Laura’s mouth. Her tongue, he claims, is sharp, but then he never felt her tongue tracing soft circles across his lips.

Teyla has.

She draws her teeth along the full sweep of Laura’s lower lip, a little harsh but not too much. Her lover gasps as her fingers shape the nipple beneath the cloth. “Meanie,” Laura breathes, although the next moment, she begs, “The other one.”

In answer, Teyla leans back to rebalance herself, but slides her fingers slowly up beneath the light white top, to tease the curve of Laura’s breast. The other woman leans back; tossing pale hair over a pale shoulder, inviting Teyla to lean over her, to let warm legs tangle with warm legs.

Hands drag at clothing, baring skin; mouths sup and suckle; bodies arch, blood thrums.

Desire is a slow-growing thing, a fire carefully tended into conflagration, touch and taste, stroke and splay, as they grow laughingly rough with the strength that neither woman hides.

Then they are together in the bed, thrusting against each other in the sheets. Teyla grins as Laura makes a noise of protest as she changes the angle of her leg between Laura’s thighs. Her whole body is a passionate ache from cleft to chin, split at breastbone and tingling through each nipple. Laura laughs and thrusts up with finger and thigh, and fine teeth nip at the join between throat and shoulder, a tiny violence that sends Teyla high.

Climax is a warm wave, like the thunderous surf on the mainland, but hot as the sooth-springs of the Agani, and her lover’s voice and her lover’s touch and her lover’s panting climax soar and slide beside her.

Afterwards, Laura props herself up on one arm and draws up the heavy weight of the quilt before tossing the discarded catalogue onto Teyla’s shoulder. “So,” she says, mischievously. “Decided yet?”

Teyla tosses the catalogue back to the floor and casts through her memory of the undergarments. “I should not mind trying the black lace. On you,” she adds.

Laura laughs as she shifts under the blankets. “Or off me?”

“That, also,” Teyla concedes with a smiling kiss.

 ****


End file.
